Body Post #1

view from the balcony, or America.

Ruth Calderon

In the 1960s, at Ben Gurion Airport, in a special balcony for those sending off travelers, we would wave goodbye to my father. The waiting room was a place neither here nor there. It had the feeling of excitement that comes with traveling abroad. After two years of living in America, I feel as if I am in that balcony again — not quite here nor there. My perspective as an Israeli living abroad temporarily places me in the air, somewhat outside, out of place. I know that my impressions are arbitrary and location related; like the blind man feeling the elephant — many things would seem different if I lived in a small Midwestern town, or on the West Coast or even in a different New Jersey suburb. Impressions will also seem different after I return home and resume my familiar routines.

And yet, the time spent in this “in-between zone” is a blessing. The past two years have given me a new understanding and appreciation of what Israelis take for granted. The experiences have shown me how complex Jewish American identity is and stirred in me a desire to engage new behaviors and ideas.

Here, then, are the ABC’s of Jewish America as they appear from my waiting room:

PHYSICALITY – When I come back to America after a visit to Israel and put away my clothes in the closet, I have the feeling that it is not just my lighter-weight clothing and casuals that I am putting away – but also my body. Perhaps it is due to the weather which plays much less of a role here. People walk around here as if in a disembodied state. – no slaps on the back, no hand-touching or hugging. Even in the gym, everybody works on their bodies as they would work on maintaining a piece of equipment. After the workout, they shower and go back to their Protestant show. Not sensual or sexy – not personal. Bare skin is less exposed here – you see fewer hands and feet. Almost no one walks barefoot. Mothers hug their children less often in the street or on the train. Toddlers are wrapped up in their strollers or carriers. Teachers also avoid touching children – perhaps out of fear of lawsuits. Etiquette requires distance between people. Only construction workers dare to compliment a woman on her appearance or whistle at her and women rarely allow themselves to appreciate it.

WORK – The real religion of the continent. “Sweet is the sleep of the laborer, whether he eats little or much”. Workers live in order to work. When you ask how someone is doing, he will answer first concerning his work. The children do work at school, complete projects, develop their skills and bring home the fruit of their efforts and their report cards. At the end of kindergarten, there is graduation. The youngsters work hard in class and then spend hours on homework. They push themselves to get into a good college. This is their work. The parent leave for work while it is still dark and return home after dark. Until 5:00 no one moves; they eat at their desks out of plastic containers. At 5:00 the secretaries leave and the executives compete with each other as to who will stay the latest. The offices are ugly. Dolls and balloons attempt to give the gray plastic cubicles a personal touch of home. We aren’t here to enjoy ourselves; we are here to work.

Even keeping their bodies in shape is work. The gym is an obligatory part of the American worker’s schedule. Parenting is also work, and sometimes even marriage and sex life.



Ruth Calderon
Founder and Executive Director, Alma Hebrew College


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There Goes the Neighborhood
Stephen Hazan Arnoff

The tabernacle is equal to the entire world; [and it is] also equal to the creation of a human being which is itself a smaller version of the world. What does this mean? When the Holy One Blessed Be God created His world, God created it just like a woman creates her baby — starting from the belly button and everything grows from here and there on four sides; so too did the Holy One Blessed Be God create the world from the foundation stone of the Temple first, and from this emerged the world. And why is it called the foundation stone? Because from it the Holy One began to create His world.

-Midrash Tanhuma, 9th century

As described in the Bible, the mishkan, or tabernacle, is akin to a theater-in-the-round, exposed on all sides to the community that lives amongst it. Part of the resonance and complexity of the tabernacle that Tanhuma teases out is that the root of the Hebrew word for tabernacle, mishkan, shares its meaning not only with the word for God’s presence — shekhina — but also with that of the word for neighbor — shakhen. Quite literally, three key semantic elements of the Hebrew root s-kh-n enliven the complicated prototype for Jewish community and holiness grounding the Israelites in the desert.

Consider the mishkan as the world’s first Jewish Community Center, a JCC or matnas: Jewish by virtue of a covenant expressed in the hovering shekhina, God’s presence; Community in the tabernacle’s being fully exposed and open to every engaged shakhen, or neighbor, in the Israelite camp; and Center since the tabernacle serves as a hub — whether the community is stationary or in transit — for all life occurring around it.

So here is my question: what combination -- if any! -- of Tel Aviv and New York and Art and Text can or should bring our communities towards the rich meanings of being shakhenim or neighbors who are central, open, and even holy to each other?

Stephen Hazan Arnoff
Executive Director, 14th Street Y of The Educational Alliance
Founding Director, LABA: The National Laboratory for New Jewish Culture